


Paradise Lost

by baekkieony



Series: Drowning Alive [16]
Category: SHINee, Winner (Band)
Genre: Alone, Angst, Anorexia Nervosa, Anorexic, Death, Depressing, Depression, Heavy - Freeform, Heavy Angst, Illnesses, Loneliness, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Monsters, Sad, Sad Ending, Silence, Starving, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 09:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13544169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baekkieony/pseuds/baekkieony
Summary: He was told that Demons have wings, but his monster is in the mirror.





	1. Taemin/Minho

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luca/gifts).



> this is...very heavy. if you are not able to handle that, please do not read. i hope this is not too confusing, but it's kind of unclear who is talking and who he talks about.
> 
> for luca, because your starlight story inspired me and it's kind of based on your sentence "he writes human in one palm, monster in the other and swallows them both"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, basically, this is the part for the taemin/minho paring. the next chapter is about the paring Kibum/Jonghyun and it has exactly the same story, so if aren't able to deal with Jonghyun's death yet, i do not recommend reading it (i wrote it after a request of a friend)

"Human", is written on one side of the page, "Monster" on the other, dividing it in half. There's nothing more on the front, but the letters shining through the paper from the other side tell him that he maybe had a ton to say.

It's quiet and he's fumbling with a random pen on the table, turning both words on his tongue over and over, clock ticking loudly in the corner, before he takes the pen and writes one letter on each fingertip, monster in one, human in the other hand.

He takes a look at his fingers, nails bitten from helpless and forlornness and grazes his thumb over the tip of his index finger, only scraping the "u" from the human lightly. He grabs the pen again and writes human on the one, monster on the other side of the paper, too and swallows them both.

He lifts himself up from the table and tells himself that he'd be able to read the paper fully one day, one terrible day without hope that he's coming back and that it's not real; but this day isn't today and he accepts that.

He's lifting up his index finger to his mouth slowly, only grazing over his upper lip lightly, chaste kiss and when he does that, it nearly feels the same as when he did it.

Humans and monsters are staying in the kitchen, together with the one's he wrote in his hands and the one's he wrote in his heart.

______________________________

Human is written on one side of the page, monster on the other, dividing the page (and his heart) in half and he asks himself what they call him, because he's torn between both.

It's not his hand that's grabbing the letter (even if it is) and it's not his mind that tells him to read it (even if it is), but it's his own decision when he adjudicates this day as not worth to be proven by the heaviness of someone's reasons to die.

The coffee stands cold on the table, and on days like this – when life seems to heavy to carry it alone – he would have helped him to lift the weight of the world again.

His knife is falling over the edge of the table, dangling onto the ground and he hears his world being shattered in pieces, sound ringing in his ears and he screams, silently, because he doesn't want himself to be awaken in real life if he'd scream out loud.

The moment feels a second too real, a second too much and a second too predicted, but it also doesn't and he's torn between dying and living, because he may be alive but rotten inside.

Today, he can't let the monsters eat him fully and he grabs the pen – confident in himself – and tries to write human in both palms, but somehow it turns out that they're forming the letters for monster.

He sees a star falling from the sky and he takes it and swallows it fully, together with the monsters in his palms.

______________________________

Jinwoo is bubbly next to him, shuttering over something unimportant and when Jinwoo notices that he hasn't taken one sip of his coffee, he heaves out a sigh and stops chatting.

"Is it one of those days again", Jinwoo asks, quietly, but he doesn't react, just continues to stare out of the window. But then he nods, as a sign he has heard him apparently, but doesn't talk, not yet.

His eyes are following the trail of his life, going by the table, waving a hand one time and walking out of the café (and he wishes he would be able to wave back and accept his fate).

"It's-it's nothing, I'm just a bit off today", fingertips are scraping over old wood and worn out jeans and before he notices, he's ripped apart like the holes in his denim. Jinwoo nods and accepts the unchangeable statement like he hasn't heard it thousands times, getting his coat. He only stares at Jinwoo, before he grabs the coffee to drink a human while he swallows a monster with every drip running down his throat.

______________________________

Jinwoo forces a few blueberries on his plate, before he grabs his fork and is shovelling food and stars in his stomach, to be stuck with throwing up dreams later.

He sees Jinwoo eating his future, his everything and under the table is his thumb running over the word monster over and over, paper balled up in his hand like the universe and also nothing.

He considers that the pink sweater Jinwoo is wearing today has to be a new "trend" and he can see humans' eyes sparkling through the holes, screaming at him not to eat, before he takes the fork and spikes it through the blueberries to drop them on Jinwoo's plate; the monster in his head screaming "well done".

Jinwoo looks up, disappointed and it's a look not really new. One disapproving gaze tells him that he's not satisfied yet and he asks himself if he should starve more so Jinwoo would smile at him again (and maybe then he would smile at Jinwoo, too).

"Sometimes I wish you could see how skinny you are", Jinwoo heaves out a sigh. there's no answer needed, it would be the same as always anyway, so he keeps quiet and concentrates on Jinwoo instead.

Jinwoo is beautiful, with soft facial features, a well sculptured nose, lips made to kiss (like cherries and wine), body petite and small, likes he's drawn out a fairytale and when he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that it's not Jinwoo but him sitting there, because he had been called beautiful by him a lot, too.

He takes his water and holds it in front of himself, watching Jinwoo getting blurry and washed out at the edges, while popping two pills into his palm, human written on one, monster on the other, before he takes a sip and swallows them both.

______________________________

The crumpled up paper on the table reminds him again that there are still a ton of words from him he hasn't read yet and that there are still a lot of things to be said yet and today is the day, one day so terrible that he thinks he can't bear the feeling of drowning and never breathing air again alone anymore; so he gives up.

He takes the paper, human and monster dividing it in half and swallows the monster, fully, before he folds it out and turns it around to read it, time ticking unnervingly away in the corner.

The slightly crooked letters are washed out with tears, writing still sweet but heavy and hopeless and it's noticeable that he was a writer – a good one. The words sound so full-bodied and ponderous in his moth, like sweet heavy chocolate on a hot summer day in july (back in 2012, with silence eating them up, and he, spreaded out on a towel) and he cries, silently, because he reads that someone called him beautiful again who wasn't able to call it himself.

He remembers his favourite words, said while he was standing in a wide white sweatshirt (moving in the light breeze) and nothing but boxershort, telling him that one day he would be "as light as a feather" and he also remembers how they spent days living from nothing but coffee and cigarettes.

He takes a step out of the kitchen, on his balcony directly placed in the trouble and hectic pace of Seoul, before he spreads out his arms like he did here, before he had jumped down the 20 storey house (they were living in the 18th), telling him "that he is gonna try to fly like a feather would", smile sweet and beautiful, "monster" tattooed on his one shoulder blade, human on the other.

When he jumps too – two years later – monster tattooed on one shoulder blade, human on the other (just like Taehyun had it), Minho understands why Taehyun wasn't able to spread out wings back then, just like he isn't able to too right now, because their monster have swallowed them whole and have left no part behind human enough to fly.


	2. Jonghyun/Kibum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One lonely tear drops onto the paper and he's screaming, but so are the monsters in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, a friend asked me to rewrite this one shot for the Jonghyun/Kibum paring. I know it's a controversial topic, but since i aslo thought about doing it for this paring first, i finally decided to do it. this is a lot more heavy to read since the events that has happened in the past. but i hope you can deal with it and i hope i was able to write about a sensitive topic in the right way and it also helped me to deal with my feelings.

"Human", is written on one side of the page, "Monster" on the other, dividing it in half. There's nothing more on the front, but the letters shining through the paper from the other side tell him that he maybe had a ton to say.

It's quiet and he's fumbling with a random pen on the table, turning both words on his tongue over and over, clock ticking loudly in the corner, before he takes the pen and writes one letter on each fingertip, monster in one, human in the other hand.

He takes a look at his fingers, nails bitten from helpless and forlornness and grazes his thumb over the tip of his index finger, only scraping the "u" from the human lightly. He grabs the pen again and writes human on the one, monster on the other side of the paper, too and swallows them both.

He lifts himself up from the table and tells himself that he'd be able to read the paper fully one day, one terrible day without hope that he's coming back and that it's not real; but this day isn't today and he accepts that.

He's lifting up his index finger to his mouth slowly, only grazing over his upper lip lightly, chaste kiss and when he does that, it nearly feels the same as when he did it.

Humans and monsters are staying in the kitchen, together with the one's he wrote in his hands and the one's he wrote in his heart.

______________________________

Human is written on one side of the page, monster on the other, dividing the page (and his heart) in half and he asks himself what they call him, because he's torn between both.

It's not his hand that's grabbing the letter (even if it is) and it's not his mind that tells him to read it (even if it is), but it's his own decision when he adjudicates this day as not worth to be proven by the heaviness of someone's reasons to die.

The coffee stands cold on the table, and on days like this – when life seems to heavy to carry it alone – he would have helped him to lift the weight of the world again.

His knife is falling over the edge of the table, dangling onto the ground and he hears his world being shattered in pieces, sound ringing in his ears and he screams, silently, because he doesn't want himself to be awaken in real life if he'd scream out loud.

The moment feels a second too real, a second too much and a second too predicted, but it also doesn't and he's torn between dying and living, because he may be alive but rotten inside.

Today, he can't let the monsters eat him fully and he grabs the pen – confident in himself – and tries to write human in both palms, but somehow it turns out that they're forming the letters for monster.

He sees a star falling from the sky and he takes it and swallows it fully, together with the monsters in his palms.

______________________________

Minho is bubbly next to him, shuttering over something unimportant and when Minho notices that he hasn't taken one sip of his coffee, he heaves out a sigh and stops chatting.

"Is it one of those days again", Minho asks, quietly, but he doesn't react, just continues to stare out of the window. But then he nods, as a sign he has heard him apparently, but doesn't talk, not yet.

His eyes are following the trail of his life, going by the table, waving a hand one time and walking out of the café (and he wishes he would be able to wave back and accept his fate).

"It's-it's nothing, I'm just a bit off today", fingertips are scraping over old wood and worn out jeans and before he notices, he's ripped apart like the holes in his denim. Minho nods and accepts the unchangeable statement like he hasn't heard it thousands times, getting his coat. He only stares at Minho, before he grabs the coffee to drink a human while he swallows a monster with every drip running down his throat.

______________________________

Minho forces a few blueberries on his plate, before he grabs his fork and is shovelling food and stars in his stomach, to be stuck with throwing up dreams later.

He sees Minho eating his future, his everything and under the table is his thumb running over the word monster over and over, paper balled up in his hand like the universe and also nothing.

He considers that the velvety red sweater Minho is wearing today has to be a new "trend" and he can see humans' eyes sparkling through the holes, screaming at him not to eat, before he takes the fork and spikes it through the blueberries to drop them on Minho's plate; the monster in his head screaming "well done".

Minho looks up, disappointed and it's a look not really new. One disapproving gaze tells him that he's not satisfied yet and he asks himself if he should starve more so Jinwoo would smile at him again (and maybe then he would smile at Jinwoo, too).

"Sometimes I wish you could see how skinny you are", Minho heaves out a sigh. there's no answer needed, it would be the same as always anyway, so he keeps quiet and concentrates on Minho instead.

Minho is beautiful, with soft facial features, a well sculptured nose, lips made to kiss (like cherries and wine), body built and tall, likes he's drawn out a movie and when he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that it's not Minho but him sitting there, because he had been called beautiful by him a lot, too.

He takes his water and holds it in front of himself, watching Minho getting blurry and washed out at the edges, while popping two pills into his palm, human written on one, monster on the other, before he takes a sip and swallows them both.

______________________________

The crumpled up paper on the table reminds him again that there are still a ton of words from him he hasn't read yet and that there are still a lot of things to be said yet and today is the day, one day so terrible that he thinks he can't bear the feeling of drowning and never breathing air again alone anymore; so he gives up.

He takes the paper, human and monster dividing it in half and swallows the monster, fully, before he folds it out and turns it around to read it, time ticking unnervingly away in the corner.

The slightly crooked letters are washed out with tears, writing still sweet but heavy and hopeless and it's noticeable that he was a writer – a good one. The words sound so full-bodied and ponderous in his moth, like sweet heavy chocolate on a hot summer day in july (back in 2012, with silence eating them up, and he, spreaded out on a towel) and he cries, silently, because he reads that someone called him beautiful again who wasn't able to call it himself.

He remembers his favourite words, said while he was standing in a wide white sweatshirt (moving in the light breeze) and nothing but boxershort, telling him that one day he would be "as light as a feather" and he also remembers how they spent days living from nothing but coffee and cigarettes.

He takes a step out of the kitchen, on his balcony directly placed in the trouble and hectic pace of Seoul, before he spreads out his arms like he did here, before he had jumped down the 20 storey house (they were living in the 18th), telling him "that he is gonna try to fly like a feather would", smile sweet and beautiful, "monster" tattooed on his one shoulder blade, human on the other.

When he jumps too – two years later – monster tattooed on one shoulder blade, human on the other (just like Kibum had it), Jonghyun understands why Kibum wasn't able to spread out wings back then, just like he isn't able to too right now, because their monster have swallowed them whole and have left no part behind human enough to fly.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, this was hella angsty.


End file.
